Walking among pilgrims for a cause
By Alexis White January 16, 2009 San Miguel de Allende

San Miguel Walk Against Domestic Violence
Sat. Jan 24, 6:30am
Meet at Harry’s
Hidalgo 12
US$25
Info: Trish Snyder at tsmar30@aol.com 

I remember getting dressed in the dark and wondering how I would fare in the campo, making my way through a landscape dotted with skin-pricking cacti and thorny huizache trees while photographing and keeping pace on the CASA San Miguel Walk Against Family Violence.

As I layered clothing (would it be this cold when and if the sun came out?) and sought a rain hat and poncho, (why couldn’t we be blessed with fair weather?), I thought about the irony of what I was about to do. New York born and bred, I had never even walked on pavement for a major hometown cause like breast cancer, and here I was preparing to walk through the Mexican countryside on behalf of an anti-family violence program.

A San Miguel friend had introduced me to CASA, founded decades before by a fellow New Yorker. CASA was making inroads toward positively affecting the lives and healthy outcomes of Mexican women and their families without removing cultural differences. CASA was about Mexicans reaching out to each other. The organization’s mission, philosophy and enormous accomplishments awed me.

I signed up for the San Miguel Walk and enlisted a cadre of stateside friends to sponsor me.

I was doing this in memory of my oldest college friend, a victim of breast cancer who had survived an abusive love affair in the days when such situations were not discussed, when bruised skin was covered with make-up. I was doing this because I knew about the machismo factor, especially among the desperate, the alcoholic, and those who had witnessed, suffered and ultimately learned abusive behavior when they were children. According to the World Health Organization, over 60 percent of Mexican women have suffered from some form of domestic violence during their lives. I had seen children and mothers in the Tianguis (Tuesday Market) who looked as though they had taken an extremely bad fall.

San Miguel Walk veterans told me that walking alongside Mexico’s second largest pilgrimage is like nothing one has ever experienced. The spirituality of the pilgrims engrosses everyone, regardless of the cause, they said. Age, gender, socio-economics, mother tongue and myriad other differences were irrelevant because everyone was in it together. I listened and absorbed. It turned out that I was only half-prepared.

We, the San Miguel walkers, waited as dawn broke for the peregrinos (pilgrims) to finish services at the Parroquia and assemble by the Jardín. We were friends, acquaintances, San Miguel tourists anxious do to something beyond the usual sightseeing, and groups representing the Biblioteca Pública, LifePath, even “Mamacitas,” gringa and Mexicana moms with babies and toddlers in tow. At that time, San Miguel Walk options comprised 20 miles per day for up to three days that included camping overnight at specific sites set up for the peregrinos. Not everyone would be able to accomplish the basic 20 miles, of course, but it was the effort that counted. I recall the indefatigable Barbara Porter, still nursing an ankle injury, accompanying us from the Jardín to the intersection where Bodega Aurrerá is now located.

The peregrinos were aligned in church groups, representing colonias, barrios, and villages deep in the campo or situated along the roads between San Miguel, Dolores Hidalgo and Querétaro.

From San Miguel, the walk to San Juan de los Lagos took nine days. Peregrinos from Querétaro had started out a day or two earlier, while Mexicans from other regions had been walking and camping for weeks, even months. No one whom I encountered seemed tired or affected by the increasingly cold, wet weather. Parish men and women carried heavy wooden platforms on their shoulders that supported intricately carved wood and glass-enclosed cases holding images of the Virgin.

I appreciated the San Miguel send-off, as it took the edge off the weather and brightened what promised to be a sunless day. Well-wishers lined San Francisco and the Quebrada overpass.

Along Canal, a small brass band played a salute to the participants. Shopkeepers and young people handed out steaming coffee, breakfast treats and sugar cane walking sticks to anyone wishing them.

Long beyond the city streets, on the footpaths and past those cacti and huizache trees, there were young men helping to keep barbed wire barriers open so others could pass through, lending their hands and physical support where terrain was gullied and uneasy for some to master. San Miguel walkers met up with old men and women making the pilgrimage. Determined but smiling, many wore wafer-thin shoes and insufficient coverings against the chill and rain. There were fathers and mothers and their young and teenaged children, all holding hands as they followed the route. I photographed a long and broad contingent of Mexicanos who did not seem to represent anyone except themselves and their belief that violence is wrong. Sanmiguelenses who always had been polite strangers passing on the streets greeted me with warm expressions. This centuries-old pilgrimage was about religion, but it also was about community.

Throughout it all there was chanting, not always in unison, not always in key, but definitely binding everyone to their purpose. For the peregrinos, the pilgrimage is done on behalf of those who are seriously ill or who suffer from addictions, or to give thanks for those who have recovered.

For those of us walking beside them, it was done to bring a message of awareness about the ravage, devastation and often death that comes from violence and abuse.

In past years, those who completed even the first day’s journey were treated to incredible sights. Pilgrims making their way populated kilometers of roadway and paths. Medical volunteers, police and other safety officials were spotted at emergency checkpoints along the route. Grounds dedicated by landowners who provided logistical organization and traffic assistance became large villages filled with thousands of people spending the night under tents, plastic canopies rigged between posts pounded into the ground, and even in vehicles. Vendors in makeshift tents and from trucks sold food, footwear, shoe padding, head covering and umbrellas.

The San Miguel Walk now covers less than five miles, and the participation/donation fee has been lowered to US$25, but one thing remains unchanged: those who participate will experience a truly unique event. Sign up at La Conexión, Aldama 3 or Border Crossings, Mesones 53.

Walkers may register up until the last day, but they need to register. We’ll meet at Harry’s on Hidalgo, get our water bottles and name tags, leave as a group from the Jardín at 7am. Transportation will be available back to Centro or to CASA for tours of the facility and a light lunch at 11. 

San Juan de los Lagos is located about 76 miles northeast of Guadalajara. Alexis White is presently located in New York, about 2,100 miles northeast of San Miguel de Allende.

Testimonies from walkers

“The magic begins in the Jardín. When you start walking in the campo, past long stretches of people of all ages, including some with babies, you cannot help but be touched by this phenomenal level of faith. I met up with many Mexicans I know, including shopkeepers and service people like my plumber. Many were surprised to see me and asked why I was walking. Although the San Miguel Walk is about domestic violence in Mexico, the truth is that domestic violence has no national, societal or economic borders. It is a universal problem and every community must address it.”

Ali Zerriffi

“My daughter was born prematurely. I made a promise that if she survived, I would make the pilgrimage to give thanks. She is a very fine daughter and I made a promise. That is my reason for making the pilgrimage, which I have done nine times.” Pedro Juarez

“In 2006, I watched hundreds of happy women, children and men come down the street. Many were singing. Some carried a heavy image; others carried banners. This was my introduction to this centuries-old pilgrimage. It caught my imagination; I wanted to join in. I learned that my housekeeper’s sister was in charge of the pilgrimage from her small village, and then I discovered that a friend had chaired something called the San Miguel Walk. It raised money for a domestic violence program run by CASA and happened in conjunction with the pilgrimage. I was hooked, and in 2007, volunteered to chair the Walk. The project seemed daunting, but it became a deeply inspiring, totally unforgettable event. Everyone should take part, even if only to walk a short distance.”

Barbara Erickson

“As foreigners, we must serve as role models from our respective countries by dedicating ourselves to the community and helping where we can. I am marching with about a dozen Mexican colleagues and friends. They include men and women who work with me in my water filtration company as well as architects, financial services and other professionals who work in San Miguel. CASA’s anti-domestic violence program needs great support and a strong message of commitment from everyone, regardless of education, socio-economic background or nationality.”

Ivan L. Schuster

“I have made the pilgrimage 18 times and only need a jacket and an extra pair of shoes. It is a very beautiful experience and gives me peace in my heart. Do I think that the little Virgin makes miracles? Yes I do. I think there are many small miracles because my life has gone well.” Fernando Juarez

Hermes Arroyo: naturalist, artist and teacher
By Krishna Villena

Hermes Arroyo is perhaps best known for his fabulous mojigangas, but his creativity extends far beyond the papier-mâché puppets that delight onlookers at parades, weddings and parties. A native of San Miguel de Allende, Arroyo is also a teacher and a key staff member at El Charco del Ingenio, the city’s botanical garden and nature preserve.

I recently had the opportunity to chat with this engaging and multi-talented artist and educator.

Krishna Villena: Aside from creating mojigangas you also work for the botanical garden and are a teacher and artist. 

Hermes Arroyo: I have been working for the botanical garden for 10 years. César Arias offered me a job after I worked at a summer camp for children at El Charco. When I started as an employee, he and I walked the paths of the garden and he related his ideas for a program of workshops and environmental education for children. My experience as an artist and a teacher at a school for handicapped children in Comonfort has helped a lot. At the botanical garden I teach kids to love the environment and to use natural elements to create art. 

KV: Where did you learn to integrate natural elements into artwork?

HA: I have always been a nature lover and observer. Observation has a lot to do with the things I create. For example, for the mojigangas I used to go to the Jardín and watch people and then reproduce their faces. At the garden, I look all over for items to incorporate into my artwork. I was inspired by a book about the work of Andy Goldsworthy, a British sculptor, photographer and environmentalist who creates site-specific sculpture and land art situated in natural and urban settings. I thought it was marvelous that he can transform something as simple as a stone into an amazing piece of art. He creates both temporary and permanent sculptures that draw on the character of their environment. My workshops at the botanical garden are very dynamic; the children find and collect the materials they think they will need to create art, and they love it.

KV: Is this part of the philosophy of reusing materials there?

HA: Yes, and I think it is important that people understand that recycling at the botanical garden is not about gathering reusable garbage such as glass or cardboard, but about reusing elements from nature. For example, we use mud from the dam, built in 1902, to make masks and sculptures based on the concept of the earth mother. We also incorporate seeds and plants and create structures such as altars that are an expression of creativity and a connection to nature. Currently we are building raised beds using mud and stones from the dam. 

KV: What is your favorite reused material at the botanical garden?


HA: In the upper part of the Charco, which is an unexplored natural area, there is lichen on the stones that has been there for centuries. I think we will use some of it to create an artwork for the vernal equinox. I want to put up plaques explaining where the material came from and the origin of this lichen that has such a marvelous color and the strength to break the stones it clings to. 

KV: The botanical garden seems to be a very important place for you.

HA: Yes, it is. Even more than a break from the noise of the city, it is a place I feel I need to be. Although I have known this place a long time, I never cease to find new and precious objects from nature. Last year I had to stop going to the botanical garden due to a medical condition and because I thought it was time to give it a break, but I simply could not stay away and I came back. I have had offers to work in other similar places, including Cañada de la Virgen, and I have done some work for them. I like to work with the people of the community. But the botanical garden is closer to my house and to my heart, and I think it needs someone who looks at it in a different way and teaches others to appreciate it. 

KV: How do people find out about what you do?


HA: Well, making mojigangas is my business, and people go to weddings or see them in parades and they get in touch with me. A lot of it is word of mouth. This also happens at the botanical garden. One time I made a sculpture out of stones and a visitor at the garden asked who the artist was. I have also created sculptures and fountains at private homes and in public spaces. I really like working on large-scale pieces.

KV: And where does all this inspiration come from?

HA: When I was a boy growing up in San Miguel, the nativity scenes, the churches and the altars on the Day of the Dead intrigued me. My family was very close to Genaro Almanza, a sculptor of sacred art, and I learned a lot from him. I was only seven years old but I was already amazed by the folklore and traditions. I was very connected with nature, too. 

KV: Do you enjoy what you do?

HA: The best part of creating things is that I can also make a living doing it. I also work as a teacher of special education in Comonfort, but I earn more from my work as an artist. I am a lucky guy who enjoys what he does and can also pay his bills. I make what I want; when I work on something I’m not wondering whether other people will like it or not. When my work is finished and I look at it and like it, that is what really matters to me. Of course, it is satisfying when others like it, too.